The Date
by beansnbarley
Summary: Storm and Professor X develop their relationship. Mature.
1. Chapter 1

Of course these are not my characters; they belong to Marvel. I'm just playing around with them. This is a work in progress; please give me any feedback you have. Thanks for your time!

REVISION: I decided to change the timeline; I originally planned on the two getting together around the time the show took place; I've since changed it. This first chapter is relatively un-changed, however, it's good to review if you liked it and want to keep going to the next few chapters. Have an opinion? Please, let me know!

Want to know my frame of thought? Like my muse, Songbook, I listened to 'Antartica' by The Weepies while writing this chapter.

 **The Date**

Ororo flopped onto the couch with a sigh, staring with a mixture of disgust and sadness at the tickets in her hand.

" _Vi! Of ALL the times you would cancel! It would HAVE to be NOW!"_ she thought.

She hadn't really paid much attention to the library's occupant when she had chosen this spot to indulge in a little self-pity. It was a Saturday morning, well before ten o'clock, and her sister had stood her up on their monthly "date". Since Jamaal*, she hadn't really gone out at all and this monthly outing with her sister was her brief escape from the cocoon she'd weaved about herself. She huffed, and then realized she wasn't alone; isn't it nearly always the case that when we expect to find ourselves alone, we find the most attentive of audiences instead? Charles regarded her pity party with a raised eyebrow, the book in his hands momentarily forgotten.

"Oh! Charles! I'm sorry; I didn't realize you were here—I hope I'm not interrupting…"

"Of course not," he replied, a small smile on his lips. "You seem upset. Is everything okay?"

Under normal circumstances, she would've waved off his concern with a "Oh it's nothing." But today…

She sighed and smiled, looking at the stubs of paper in her hands.

"It's nothing terribly important; it's just…well, it's mine and Vi's date," she air quoted, "night, and, well, I really was looking forward to this event. And she's cancelled."

"Oh?"

"Yes, well, you know, it's not a big deal, but we've had our Saturday morning dates for months, now. It's nothing big; we just go out and see a movie and then have lunch. I only just bought these tickets yesterday; she was SURE she was going to come, but then…oh well," she sighed resignedly.

Charles regarded her for a moment, then closed his book and asked, "would you like someone to go with you?"

She giggled, replied, "are you saying you'd like to watch a movie with me? And maybe have lunch…if you play your cards right?"

He chuckled, smiled, "I am assuming your tickets are non-refundable?"

"They are not."

"Well then, if you'd like my company, I'd be more than happy to ensure you didn't lose out on—"

"Fifteen dollars."

He covered his growing smile with his hand. "You don't want to go by yourself?"

"No one wants to go by themselves to see a movie, Charles. That's just silly. I would love to have you come along, but I'll warn you, my tastes are very eclectic," she beamed.

"Alright then. I'll meet you in the garage in—"

"Twenty minutes," she answered, and jumped up to get ready. She turned at the door, looking back at him, "Thank you."

He smiled in reply.

As they moved along the driveway and out onto the main streets, Ororo couldn't help but be excited. She had known Charles for many years and loved him, albeit in different ways, the entire time. He had saved her as a child from a life of slavery under the foul rule of the Shadow King, had re-united her with her sister, despite the wishes of the Hungan, and moved her to the United States at nineteen. He'd worked with her to pass her GED. He'd taught her to drive. He was the one who'd gotten her into college and paid for it, although it was under the guise of a scholarship from the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. At some point, Charles had become more to her; maybe it was that night, standing in the rain she had called forth in her pain, her suitcase in one hand and her cat, Pharaoh, mewling pathetically in his cage in the other. Maybe it had always been; after all, Jamaal had always accused her of senselessly comparing him to Charles (she had scoffed at this at the time). Regardless, she had spent the last six months rebuilding her life, and her best friend in the whole wide world had been there. But wasn't he always? At every point in her life when she simply could not carry on, Charles had somehow appeared and rescued her. Now, she was going out on a "date" with him; now he was going to see the things she really enjoyed. Would he think her weird? She had never before worried about what he thought—well, that wasn't entirely true—she cared tremendously about what he thought; she just hadn't ever sought his opinion as a mate. What if he thought she was weird?

The movie ended, the credits beginning to roll. The lights faded back into existence, illuminating the passageways between chairs. Charles peered over at Ororo, who shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile.

"I had no idea you were a horror film fanatic," he said.

"I am rather fond of them," she smiled, continued, "I actually have been a big fan of '80s slasher films…oh…since my first semester of college."

They began to move out of the dimly lit room and into the hallway of the aging theatre. They exited and began moving towards the parking lot, expounding all the while on her penchant of horror flicks.

"I just love the cheesy plot lines and complete lack of character development. And the blood! Goodness, it's so unrealistic and no one would just ignore some madman skulking about their house with a giant knife! And yet, these films keep getting made! I can't get enough of them. Anyway, my friend Bruce introduced to me the Reynolds Theatre and its weekly horror showcase. I've been hooked ever since."

"Can you still manage some lunch after all that blood?"

"Charles, please. I'm a professional."

He chuckled and they looked around for a place, spotting one just up the street from the theatre. The sign hanging out over the street read 'Amore'.

"Have you ever tried that place?"

"Never."

"Would you like to?"

"Of course! This is adventure Saturday**, Charles!"

They moved down the sidewalk and towards the bar, noting the small stores that filled some of the retail spaces, the ones that were empty, and the ones occupied by bars that were not open at noon Saturday, as a general rule. There were consignment shops, antique stores, high-end art galleries, low-end art galleries, the pair of competing record stores, and at least three women's boutiques. They passed a salon that had its doors propped open in the hopes of catching some non-existent breeze. Ororo sent one their way in the name of Karma. The air was filled with the smell of new nails and town gossip, and it was hot. The New York summer could be stifling at times, and this day reveled in making its subjects experience it. Sweat began to bead on her lower back; she could only imagine how Charles felt in that jacket of his. They reached the Amore sign and Ororo opened the door into the bar. Charles wheeled himself inside and they waited for the hostess.

"Would you like to sit inside or outside," the hostess asked.

Charles looked to Ororo, who promptly replied, "outside, please."

The bar itself was an old East coast building. It was longer than it was wide, and the interior felt a little cramped. The patio area of the bar, however, was double that width and just as long. It was cobbled and sported a pergola that was the main bone of contention in a war fought viciously by ivy and honeysuckle vines. All of the four outdoor fans were on, simultaneously ensuring the air was circulated in the stifling heat and also that the smoke from the only other patrons of the bar would not inadvertently offend any newcomers. The smokers were suspicious, as smokers are when forced to share their dwindling space with non-smokers in an establishment dedicated to eating. The woman narrowed her eyes and focused on the pair, looking for signs of anti-smoker sentiments.

"Hi, I'm Dawn. I'll be your waitress for the evening," the waitress asked. "Can I get you anything to drink or do you need a few moments?"

Charles checked his watch then replied, "I'll have a dirty martini."

The waitress wrote, "and you?"

"You know, I have never had a martini. What are they like?"

"Like a lot of gin," the waitress replied, her nose scrunching at the thought.

Charles smiled, "it's gin, vermouth, and, in the case of mine, a bit of olive juice. If you don't like gin, it might not be the best drink to order."

"I'm not really sure if I do or not. I'm sure I've had it at one point, but I really don't recall."

"Gin tastes like Pine-Sol. A vodka one's alright though," the waitress added helpfully.

"I thought it was adventure Saturday," Charles chuckled.

"Alright, I'll do it. I'll have what he's having."

The waitress shrugged and took down the order. "A couple of waters too?"

They nodded and she left, moving to the other couple on the patio.

"So, Vi likes horror movies too?"

"Not in the least. Our visits are monthly; I pick the activity one month and she gets to pick the next month. Hers, as you can probably imagine, usually include a mall and very tiny bits of food on plates. Zero carbs. Does gin have carbs?"

"I don't think so."

At the mention of martinis and carbs, the drinks arrived along with their waters. The waitress took their lunch orders and then checked on the other couple.

Ororo took a tentative sip and Charles watched her intensely.

"Well? What do you think," he asked.

"It's...," she thought for a moment, "it's okay. Actually not too bad. Okay so, why a martini?"

Charles smiled, said, "They're considered the great American contribution."

"Contribution to what?"

"I assume alcoholism." They laughed, sipped, and he continued, "did you know that if you ask for extra olives, the bartender will never give them to you in pairs? It always has to be an odd number. For instance, if I had asked for extra olives, the bartender would've given me three as opposed to two."

"Really? Why is that," she asked, sipping at her drink.

"It's considered unlucky to have two olives," he replied, and took a drink.

"I didn't know martinis were so deep."

"Well, I don't know about deep, but now you know as much as I do when it comes to them," he said.

She smiled, took another drink, then said, "okay, it's your turn. You know about my weird obsession for horror flicks; tell me something about yourself I don't already know."

He replied, "what?"

"Well, isn't that the point of a date? To find out more about the other person?" She smiled at him demurely.

He cocked his head, thought, then replied, "Yes, I suppose that is the purpose. Okay, something you don't know about me. Hmmm...I have to think about this."

"Take your time. I'm dying to know some dirty little secret of yours."

As he thought, their food arrived. They ate in relative silence, commenting on the trivial and on the overly-suspicious smoker woman.

"I feel as though she's about to just come out and ask us if her smoking bothers us. But not like in a 'I'll-put-this-out-to-appease-you' sort of way; more like a 'I-dare-you-to-confront-me' sort of way."

Charles choked a little on his food, recovered, smiled, then said, "I think you might be on to something there."

They ate a bit more in silence until Charles, setting down his fork with confidence said, "I've got it."

Ororo looked at him expectedly.

"My hair was blonde," he said triumphantly.

There passed between them a moment of silence, Charles happy that he'd come up with something and Ororo digesting that information. She said nothing. His smile, which had been wide and unexpected, faded. He cocked his head to the side, grew thoughtful then said, "You're imagining me with hair, aren't you?"

Ororo burst into a fit of laughter. "Yes...actually...yes...I was trying to imagine you with hair! I must say, that is one thing I never knew about you that I didn't know I'd always wanted to know."

Charles laughed. Not a chuckle, not a smirk. He actually threw back his head and laughed. It was good to see; she had never seen him laugh like that. His shoulders dropped and he was beaming at her. It was as though his protective shield had gone; she was now interacting with the man beneath that shell. And that man was wonderful. He reached across the table and took her hand. They continued their meal in amiable conversation, but it was the best she had had with him ever.

Charles pulled the car into the garage and they both got out. She patiently waited as he maneuvered himself into his chair and then, once he'd shut the car's door, walked beside him as he wheeled towards the elevator.

"I had a lovely time today."

"Despite the copious amounts of blood, so did I," he replied.

"Would…would you care to do this again sometime?"

"I would be delighted."

*Oh yeah, I changed names, too.

**When I read it, it makes perfect sense. My husband and I have "Adventure xxDayxx" where whenever work allows, we just go out and do new things. Those days aren't always the same, so it might be Adventure Saturday one week and Adventure Monday the next. Anyway, it's great and you should try it.


	2. Chapter 2: Jamal

The Date Chapter 2: Jamal

When Ororo had first come to America, she had had very little formal education. While she was perfectly capable of surviving in a large city on a dime and a dream, she couldn't conjugate a verb and her arithmetic was limited to calculating her cut of a take. The Hungan had discouraged her; what could the Western world really offer? But standing before her was the sister she hadn't seen in twelve years and, though in a wheelchair, was the man who had saved her from the Shadow King seven years earlier. If it wasn't fate to go with them, what could it possibly be?

She was a smart girl and she wanted to learn. Violet stayed with her at the mansion for the first few months, determined to ensure that her sister felt comfortable. Ororo needed no such help, however. She felt perfectly at home with Charles and, while she was impressed by the size of the mansion, she seemed to fit into the Bayville scene with ease. Charles worked with her every day to improve her scholastic aptitude so that she could pass her G.E.D. She devoured information and Charles was ecstatic to have such a capable and enthusiastic student. It didn't take Vi long to figure out she was simply not needed; that the two of them worked and lived together just fine. Vi went back to her husband and her young son with the promise to visit frequently and a reassurance that she was always just a phone call away.

In addition to bringing her up to par with her American peers educationally, Charles tried to acclimate her to American life. He taught her to drive, which was a great test of his patience, and eventually she got her license. He explained the myriad of things she asked about, regardless of how difficult. Luckily, Vi was there for the more gender-specific things and Ororo, while naïve on the subtleties of American culture, was not blind to street rules, which seemed universal. She didn't want to go out and see the night life; she preferred the quiet safety of the Institute. She kept herself busy between lessons; she helped clean, especially if it involved laundry. She loved doing laundry. She even goaded Charles into teaching her to play the piano. It was no surprise to either her sister nor her teacher that she passed her G.E.D. and SAT with stunning marks. Ororo was ready for college.

She had opted for New York University. They offered an undergraduate in Atmospheric Studies; a meteorology degree that interested her. While she wasn't amazing at the basics of English Composition, she aced the science part. She was required to learn about how weather formed and how, given great swatches of time, climate could be discerned. She never missed a prediction; of course, if she were shy a few hours, she could always adjust the weather to meet her forecast, although she rarely had to do this.

She had opted to move into the dormitory, even though the institute was about an hour away.

"I want to be on my own, if only as an illusion," she'd told Charles.

He'd been supportive of her decision to leave the mansion; her sister less so.

"I just think that you could save money staying at Xavier's. The commute isn't so bad!"

"Vi, it's an hour one way! No, I think it's time for me to get out on my own and at least realize what it is to be by myself."

So Ororo had moved out of the mansion, and into the campus dormitory. The first day, she met her eccentric roommate, Annie, who had a giant stuffed unicorn named Alfred that she spoke to quite regularly and who, just as often, "replied". During her first semester, she met Quentin, who was, as he described himself, the most extra of the extra. While she wasn't entirely sure what that meant, she loved Q (he said Quentin was the name of a forty-year-old white man, which he certainly was not; but Q could stand for Queen, and he was definitely the Queen Bee). The three of them (four, if you counted Alfred, the Wize Old Stuffed Unicorn) became the best of friends. Still, she called Charles nearly every day; if she was going out, she told him where she was going, with whom, and when she returned safely back to her room. He'd never asked her to do this; she just did.

Annie had asked her once about this; wanting to know if Charles was her step-dad or something.

"No," Ororo replied, confused. "Why would you think that?"

"I dunno. You just call him every day and tell him parent stuff. 'Oh Charles, it's me, I'm cool, yo. Just gonna go see a movie,'" Annie mocked.

"I have never called him 'yo' in my entire life."

"Whatever. Alfred thinks it's weird."

"Well Alfred's weird."

"He is not. He's magical."

The two of them burst into laughter at the mention of Alfred's magical abilities.

She visited her sister for dinner a couple of times a week, schedule permitting. Nothing, however, stopped her from returning to the mansion nearly weekend. When Charles had asked why she didn't do laundry at her sister's or even at the dorm, she nonchalantly informed him that one: the dorm's machines cost money, two: while her sister's was closer to her dorm than the commute to Bayville, the mansion was infinitely more quiet than a house with a baby, and, most importantly, three: the mansion was her home; her sister's was a place to visit. Charles had no argument for that, and ensured that on the Fridays that she was driving back, he had prepared her favorite meals. It was a good time.

Her fourth semester was different. She met Jamal at a party her roommate, Annie, dragged her to. She was instantly attracted to his vision; Jamal proclaimed to be an advocate of inner-city, underprivileged children. She had fallen in love with his kindness; he gently escorted her around the party, introducing her to everyone in attendance. Everyone knew Jamal. He had been so gentle and attentive; he was smart and dedicated. He was charismatic; people flocked to him. She was hooked.

They started to date and things she'd done for a year and a half suddenly became blasé. Charles took it better than Vi, who was angry that her sister continuously cancelled their weekly dinner plans. Charles hadn't placated Vi's anger, however. He knew she had been nagging at Ororo to find a 'decent boy' for some time, instead he demurely played off Ororo's new-found independence as a symptom of growing up and being comfortable as an independent adult. Vi acquiesced and the two took a back seat in Ororo's life. She, of course, was oblivious to the change of seating arrangements; her world re-aligned itself to orbit around Jamal.

Everything had been wonderful at first. Ororo, instead of spending several weeks with her sister over summer break, moved out of her dorm and into an apartment with Jamal. She picked up a job close to their new apartment, and the couple began to dream of their future. His dream was to provide free legal representation to underprivileged children. It didn't stop there, however. Jamal painted a picture of a place where children could go to get help for any myriad of problems: from lack of food or a safe living environment, to more complex things like emancipation or criminal representation. In Jamal's opinion, the worst part of being in that sort of situation was the idea that there was no way out; that a person born to that life must live a certain way because there was no chance of recovery. This resonated with Ororo, for multiple reasons. When they became lovers, she had confided in him her ultimate secret: that she was a mutant. Jamal hadn't minded, and, slowly but surely, Ororo had given up more and more of herself to support him.

It had started innocently enough; if Jamal was free of having to work, he could canvas the city more and acquire more financial backing. Though Vi suggested asking Charles to support Jamal's vision, Ororo never did. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it seemed wrong to her. Instead, she took a second job to help support Jamal's goals. Eventually, they came to the conclusion that if they focused on Jamal's education, he would be able to kick-start his non-profit sooner and, once it was going strong, she could finish her schooling. Ororo dropped out the fall semester of her third year. She didn't bother telling anyone; she picked up a third job instead because Jamal's education was expensive.

The problem was this: Jamal had no dream. He was a con-artist. He audited classes instead of enrolling in them, and Ororo's hard-won tuition money went to Jamal's increasingly expensive entertainment. He convinced people to donate money to his budding non-profit, but not a dime went to anything even remotely resembling a charity. Jamal was a VIP at several swanky uptown clubs and he always had the very best dust. He became increasingly controlling of Ororo as well. She stopped seeing her sister; she wasn't allowed to talk to any male, and certainly not 'that crippled pervert' Charles. Slowly, Ororo became a shell of herself.

Then one morning, her old friend Q stumbled into the all-night diner that constituted her third job.

"Oh, hey girl hey!" Q bobbed, drunk.

"Hey Q; I haven't seen you in a long time."

"Nope—" hiccup "not since you started dating JAAAAMAAAAL."

"No need to be rude; are you ready to order?"

"Yeah. Yeah Ima order. Shut up!" He turned to one of his drag buddies who had been repeating "crepes" incessantly. "I ORDER you to wake yor stupid ass up!"

She sighed, "listen, do you want to order or what? If you keep acting a fool, they'll send security."

"Send 'em."

"Q, listen…I.."

"No, YOU listen. You stopped going to school for that…PRICK," Q leaned in, his finger drunkenly wavering inches from her face. "You think he's….*burp*…going to school? He's AUDITING classes, b*tch. He's PLAYING you. You think he's at home sleeping right now while you get my f*cking pancakes? Nope….he's at SOL snorting bens of coke and f*cking women you ain't never seen!" Q swayed a little and then looked at his friend. "C'mon, I don'wan this place." He looked pointedly at Ororo. "S'filled wiff f*cking idiots."

She left work after that, claiming to be sick, which, technically she was, although in a completely different sense. She got home, calling Jamal the entire time. Eventually, he met her in their apartment. He was high, drunk, and, obviously, not making it to class in the morning. She confronted him with Q's accusations and the couple quickly got into a very serious fight. As in often the case in a relationship like theirs, when he realized he had been caught in his lies, he resorted to violence. The first hit landed on her jaw, and she stumbled backwards. He screamed at her; told her how useless she was. She stood her ground; she'd been hit before in the streets of Cairo. He began to wail upon her; his blows caught her face again, and then he landed several blows to her gut and she went down. He began to kick her legs and, as she curled into a ball, he kicked her head and torso. Without thinking, she threw out her left hand and called every wisp of wind she could feel to her. The wind caught Jamal in the chest and pushed him out of the kitchen and against the front door. He stared wide-eyed at her, then shakily got to his feet.

"Freak," he sputtered, "I'll…I'll ruin you. You're done. I'm going to the cops; they'll know you tried to KILL ME!" He turned quickly to the door at his back, opened it, and ran outside into the early morning.

Shaking, Ororo touched her swollen face, and then looked for her cell phone. She found it and dialed a number she hadn't in a long time.

"Hello?" She had expected him to sound groggy, after all it was three in the morning, but Charles sounded more alarmed than tired.

"Charles?"

"Yes, I'm here."

She started to tell him what had happened and that she needed help; all that came out of her mouth was a sob. She started to cry; not silent, controlled crying, but ugly, messy chest-sobs.

"I…*sob*..I…we got in a fight….I used my power on him!"

"Where are you?" He was calm, controlled.

"In….*sob*…the…*sob*…apartment."

"Are you okay? Are you safe?"

She sniffed, tried to pull herself together. "Yes."

"Gather up everything you can't bear to leave behind; I'll be there in forty-five minutes."

"But—"

"Everything you can't live without, Ororo. I'm on my way."

He hung up the phone and she started to pack her life into bags she could carry. Her cat, Pharaoh, mewled at her knowingly. In the forty-five minutes it took for him to get to her apartment, she had packed up everything she couldn't live without, to include Pharaoh, and was standing on the porch in a raincoat. Rain flooded the streets; it pounded in fat, giant plops on the roofs of the buildings, in the puddles newly-formed on the streets. Despite the plethora of drops, her tears were not diminished.

Charles pulled up, and, in the years since he had been confined to a wheelchair, he had never regretted it as much as he did now. He wanted to leap from the vehicle, to take her in his arms and protect her. Instead, he rolled down the window, told her to get in, and, once she and her belongings were safely situated in the SUV, he U-turned in the street and started back to Bayville.

"He knows; he said he was going to the cops," she said dejectedly.

"He had a change of mind."

She glanced at him, but he stared straight ahead at the rain-slick road.

A week later showed no change in the weather.

There was a knock on her door and before she could acknowledge the visitor, he pushed himself inside. On his lap he balanced a cooler and a brown paper bag. She sniffed and looked at him, then turned back towards the balcony doors.

"What's in the bag?" she asked, staring out into the rainy night.

"I'll tell you if you give me five minutes," Charles replied.

"Fine." She turned towards him.

He sat the cooler and the large paper bag on the bench at the foot of her bed, then he pushed his chair close to her. He took her hands in his; she looked at him, surprised, and he met her gaze.

"I know it hurts."

"How could you?" She shook her head.

Charles looked to his lap and then back to her; he squeezed her hands.

"I used to work as a suicide counselor. I fell in love with…one of my patients. Her name was Gabrielle Haller. She…she needed. And I wanted to be needed. Eventually, we got married."

He sighed at this point and looked towards the ceiling. He continued his story.

"At first, everything was great. Then, I decided to open the school. Gabby seemed fine with it. But…she…didn't really believe. She thought I was just trying to drum up support for my own benefit. She…used to get angry at me for being….no…for 'pretending to be too mutant'. She thought I made it up….we fought. One day, we fought so badly, I just had to go. I was jogging up to the coffee shop, that one up on Allen Drive. I tried to run away from how she felt…" he sighed.

"Friends For Humanity, they knew. They knew who I was and what I stood for. They didn't have to look too long to find me. I…," his hands left hers and he ran them over his face and head, returning them to his mouth. He sighed, not meeting her eyes.

"I was jogging up to that coffee shop on Allen…I wasn't paying attention. His name was Thomas. Thomas Langford. He…" Charles looked to his lap again and when he met her eyes, his were filled with a deep sadness.

"He ran me over. I flipped over the top of his car; but I was alive. He was sent to kill me so, when I was still breathing, he backed up over me, and then corrected his course and came again. I disabled him," Charles tapped the side of his head with a finger, "I willed him to pick me up and take to me to the hospital." Charles paused, chewing absently on his thumbs. After a moment, he continued.

"Twelve surgeries later and at least three hundred twenty hours of physical therapy…I couldn't walk. I will never walk again because of that accident. She…that is, Gabby, my ex-wife…she couldn't take it. She blamed it on the school but really she was scared. If I was such a strong telepath and I couldn't save myself…then how could I protect her?" He looked down at his lap briefly, then met Ororo's eyes.

"She left me."

Again he looked down.

"I…I didn't do well with that. When she left…I wasn't in a good place. I…drank. A lot. I stopped going to physical therapy altogether. Finally, one of the nurses showed up and forced me to work at life again. She was a mutant; she recognized me from TV; she…wouldn't let me quit. She taught me the basics of living gain. She taught me to drive a car, to get to high places, to go down stairs if I had no choice. The point is, Ororo, she taught me how to live again."

He took Ororo's hands in his again and squeezed them.

"So, yes, I know what it's like to have your heart broken. But I also know that it will only last as long as you let it. Now," he indicated rain pounding steadily against the glass of the balcony doors, "it's been raining for the better part of a week. Did you know that there's subway lines flooding because of it? Two of the lines have been shut down because the tracks just aren't safe."

He looked her deep in the eyes, "While I agree that Jamal is a terrible person, I don't think he should make you one. If you want to be sad for a while longer, I understand. But you can't flood New York and her Burroughs because you can't control yourself, even on a subconscious level."

She huffed. "So what should I do about it, then? Forget it all happened?"

He inhaled deeply, said, "I have three doctorates; one of them happens to be in Psychology. I am a licensed psychologist and psychiatrist. That means I can diagnose the problem and prescribe a cure."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would you prescribe?"

He smiled and leaned back in his chair, opening the cooler he'd placed on the bench at the foot of her bed. She craned her neck and saw that the cooler contained three bottles of champagne. He watched her face as she absorbed the meaning of the cooler's contents.

"I prescribe a little bit of drunkenness, a few pounds of Chinese delivery," he indicated the brown bag beside the cooler, pulled a few DVDs out of his coat, "and some good friends to share it all with over some heart-wrenching cinema. One of these is 'Steel Magnolias'."

He looked over his shoulder towards the open door of her room.

"You can come in, now."

Her sister, Annie, and Q appeared at the door. They shuffled into her room and Q held up several bottles of nail polish.

"He forgot to mention the pedicures."

Ororo put her hand to her mouth and sobbed gently. Her sister crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms.

"Oh my sister! I'm so sorry!" Vi held her close.

The other two joined them, and Charles backed out of their way. Ororo extricated herself from the embrace of her friends, and stood, walking to Charles. She bent, kissed his cheek and whispered, "Thank you."

He smiled, squeezed her hand, then turned and left the room, closing the door on the consoling conversation of her company. As the door clicked shut, he smiled to himself again. She would recover.


	3. Chapter 3: Two Dinners Part I

Chatper 3: Two Dinners Part I

That first wonderful date led to another the following Saturday, and then to another the week after that, until slowly but surely, the weeks stacked into a month and half of dates. Both of them, albeit unbeknownst to the other, had deemed their Saturdays together as the best part of their respective weeks and they looked forward to them immensely. However, finals week put a brief hiatus their weekly outings, as nothing had been planned before the dreaded tests. Even still, the two were together, Charles helping Ororo to study until late into the night the entire weekend.

"It's like it will never end," she complained.

"It's only a week."

"Well in mental anguish, it's at least four." She yawned, brining the back of her hand to her mouth. "And we've missed our date this week—all for studying." She gave him a pouty face.

He chuckled, "I promise we'll do something fun as soon as your finals are over."

"Really? It's your choice, isn't it?"

"It is."

"Oooh, what are you going to choose for Adventure Day?"

"I think I'll leave it a surprise."

"Oh I do love surprises! Okay! Next Saturday, we're are celebrating the end to this semester!"

"Deal."

She leaned over the arm of the couch and across his chair to kiss his cheek. "Well, I'm to bed, then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Charles watched her leave the library and began worrying over what he should plan for their next Adventure Day. The two had already done so many different things on their dates, from watching one of Ororo's beloved horror films to touring the Bayville Farmer's Market and even a few trips to the various museums the city had to offer. Regardless of the activity, however, they always ended their outings with a meal and their new-found favorite game of Tell-Me-Something-I-Didn't-Know-About-You. The two thought all week about what fact they would relate to the other. Then, through mutual consensus, they would decide who had "won" the game on their way back to the mansion. Sometimes Ororo won, but Charles normally had that honor. Perhaps he could come up with something related to the game to share with her?

An old memory came to him then and he smiled to himself. She would never guess what he had in mind, and he would definitely win. Plus, it would be fun and they could spend a whole day together. He liked the idea and commenced setting things in order.

Ororo was in class, finishing up the last round of finals. Charles had paused during his work from time to time the entire day to think of her. He knew she had been worried; he had no such troubles. He knew she would ace the tests, but he would be glad when the stress of them was behind her. He smiled to himself; tomorrow they would have a blast, he was sure. He had their tickets, a nice breakfast planned, and even a present to add to her attire for the day. His grin widened as he thought of her reaction.

 _She'll love it_ , he thought, turning her gift over in his hands.

His office phone rang, forcing him out of his daydream.

"Good morning, Xavier Institute, Dr. Xavier."

"Charles! It's Moira; I've just flown in—excuse me," Moira barked at someone, then continued with a huff, "the manners of you Americans. Anyway, I've just landed and I'm on my way to my hotel; care for some dinner later?"

"Hotel? Would you like to stay here instead?"

"No, but thank ye. I've got an early flight tomorrow to Berkley; I'm there for a cancer symposium. Seems as though they'd like to have the pioneer of genetic-based treatments show up for a Q-n-A. Anyway, I thought I'd check in on the patient who made me m'riches, make sure ye aren't dyin' of cancer as I tout meself."

Charles chuckled and Moira continued, "I'll let ye choose, Charles. Call me with the details."

She gave him her hotel information and then they both hung up. Moira was a no-nonsense sort of person. He shook his head and picked his phone back up, dialed the restaurant he had in mind, and made his reservations for seven o'clock.

Ororo stepped out of the musty classroom and out into the warm afternoon sun. She was done! Finished were the horrid examinations! She was free! FREE! She hadn't been paying any attention and realized suddenly she was spinning in a circle in the middle of the quad. She froze, letting her arms fall to her sides. Those people in the quad that had noticed her, though, knew exactly how she felt and nodded their approval. She giggled and started towards the campus parking lot and her car. From her bag, a windchime tinkling sound began to play. Her phone.

She reached in, grabbed it and, in her joy of being undone from her scholastic tethers for a least a few months, she answered instead of screening her phone call.

"Hello!"

"Congratulations, sister! I am soooo proud of you! How do you feel? Were any of them worse than you thought? Better than you thought? How do you think you did?"

"Oh Vi! I feel great; mainly because they're over. It's always so stressful, you know? But Charles helped me study a lot last weekend, so I feel as though I had a solid handle on them all."

"That's great! Well, then, get your butt over here because Trevor and I are taking you out on the town!"

"I'm really tired, Vi; could we do this another night?" She thought of lounging on the couch in her best pajamas listening to Charles read his favorite book, _The Once and Future King_ , to her. And she could eat at least a tub of ice cream while he wove the tale around her. Yes, that was the night she wanted.

"Ororo," Vi's tone was very ominous and she didn't normally use her full name. She continued, her voice a staccato punctuating the seriousness of her message, "I. Got. A. Babysitter."

Ororo felt a twinge of despair in her belly; if Vi splurged on a babysitter, she would have no choice but to go with the two of them. She loved both Trevor and Violet, but she always felt like a third wheel. She wished she had someone to go with.

"Can I bring someone?" She'd had an IDEA.

"Is it a boy?"

"Yes."

"Do I know him?"

"Yes."

"Is it Jamal?"

"No!"

"Well, as long as it isn't Jamal sure, you can bring someone."

"Alright, I'll be there in a bit. But Vi, I really didn't dress up or anything."

"We're not going anywhere fancy, but if you want to use some of my makeup, you can."

"Wow, you ARE being generous."

"I got a babysitter. Toodles!"

She looked down at the phone in her hand and sighed as the screen confirmed the conversation had been real. Its face read, 'Call Ended. 00:01:43'.

 _Rats,_ she thought, still, Vi had told her she could bring someone. Ororo smiled to herself and found the contact she wanted.

"Hello, Ororo."

"I love it when you do that. Anyway, finals are over but guess who just caught me as I was walking to my car?"

"Your sister."

"Right you are, Dr. Xavier. Well, anyway, she wants me to go with her and Trevor for dinner and then some drinking maybe. I told her I didn't really want to go; that I was tired, but she was having none of it. She's gotten a babysitter."

She heard Charles laugh on other end, then reply, "that is serious. Noted: you've been guilted into a free dinner and some drinking by your sister's hiring of a babysitter. I'll alert the authorities of your impending kidnapping."

"It's not funny, Charles. Well, okay, I guess it's a little funny, but I really hadn't planned on it. Anyway, she did say I could invite someone and, well, I wanted to know if you'd like to come along?" She was twirling her hair around her finger and chewing on her bottom lip. She wanted so much for him to come. If he did, she could see him and talk to him and just be near him. Maybe they would end up in a crowded pub and she would have to lean close to hear him or be heard herself and she could catch a whiff of his cologne. Maybe…she realized Charles was talking and she hadn't exactly been paying attention.

"—afraid I have other plans tonight."

"Oh," her heart felt as though it had stopped beating. "I hadn't realized you'd had plans. I'm sorry; I must've forgotten you'd mentioned it."

Charles sighed. "I just made them. Moira McTaggert is in town, so I'll be meeting her for dinner. I can pick you up when I'm done, though."

"Alright, although, I think Vi might try and pressure me to stay the night," she replied.

"Well resist. You and I have a date tomorrow and it starts in the morning. Take a cab to your sister's; the parking there might be a little rough. I can always bring you back to the campus later for your car."

She was heartened by the reminder of the date. Why had she been so upset by his dinner plans, anyway? She was just being silly.

"But enough of this, how did your exams go?!"

She grinned, slung her backpack into the backseat of her car, locked it, and made her way to the sidewalk to summon a taxi. As she walked, she regaled him with a nearly minute by minute replay of the mentally grueling tests and, by the time the taxi had pulled up in front of her sister's, she had gotten to the part where she twirled in the afternoon sun, basking in her freedom. Charles listened raptly, wishing she were telling him the story in person instead of over the phone. He could clearly envision the facial expressions she made as she said each word and how she would emphasize her points with her hands. He had an overwhelming desire to tell her to have the taxi turn around, to get to her car, and come home to him. He pushed that fantasy far away, opting for a safer, although much lonelier, route.

"Well," he said after her announcement that she had arrived at Violet's, "I will let you go—," those words caught in his throat, "and I'll see you later this evening."

"Alright! Have fun!"

"You as well. Give my best to Trevor and Violet."

"I will. Goodbye, Charles!"

"Goodbye, Ororo."

As he hung up the phone, he looked wistfully at it. He'd wanted to talk to her more; to have her say anything she wanted, so long as he could hear her voice. Across the city, Ororo was walking on Cloud 9; she and Charles had a date tomorrow and she would see him before the night the done.

Charles dialed Moira's hotel; punched in the corresponding numbers for her room when prompted.

"Hello?" Moira answered on the third ring, as was her habit.

"Hello, Moira, it's Charles. I've made reservations for seven at La Petit Panier. A taxi will arrive at six fifteen to pick you up."

"La Petit Panier? Charles, I havena thing to wear."

"I doubt that."

Moira tittered, "ye know me so well. Okay, I'll see ye then. Goodbye, Charles."

"Goodbye, Moira."

She walked into the restaurant and was instantly greeted by the maître d. Before the man could ask her anything, she said, "I'm meeting Dr. Charles Xavier."

He inclined his head and indicated the vast and luxurious dining area behind him. "May I take your coat, mademoiselle?"

She handed a newly materialized busboy her coat and followed the maître d. They were on the top floor of a prominent high rise in the middle of the city. The main dining room was circled by a stunning balcony that delivered superb views of the city and the setting sun. It was breathtaking. She was led through the indoor tables and, to her delight, out onto the dusky patio. Her eyes met Charles' and he moved away from the table to greet her.

"You look lovely, Moira," he said.

"Thank ye, ye don't so bad yerself," she joked, as she bent to kiss his cheek.

The maître d pulled the table's lone chair out for her, and she sat. Charles had already chosen a sophisticated and appropriately expensive bottle of wine, which the host poured for them before announcing their waiter would be with them shortly. Moira looked around, admiring the view.

"This is very nice," she remarked, turning towards him. "Have ye been here before?"

"A few times," he replied, taking a sip of his wine.

Moira followed suit and then paused, her glass held just above the table. Charles looked much different than the last time she'd seen him. Her hesitation was slight, and she didn't think he'd noticed it. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been a shadow of the man she'd met nearly thirty years before.

Moira McTaggert had met the seventeen-year-old American prodigy while they both studied at Oxford University. Charles had a few genetics classes with her and she was instantly drawn to more than just his intelligence. The two quickly hit it off and it wasn't long before they became lovers. Eventually, Charles had confided in her his ultimate secret: he was a mutant telepath. She'd been instantly intrigued, and began to devise elaborate tests of his ability. She never let him read her mind, of course, but she would pay undergraduates a nominal amount of money and have them sign a completely illegal waiver that loosely implied a sort of 'mental checkup'. Charles, brilliant though he was, was also very naïve, and he believed Moira when she waved the documentation at him. She claimed all of the students were aware of what he was and what he was doing. He, of course, limited his mental interaction with them to the parameters of the test and so was never the wiser. As the tests increased in complexity, so, too, did Moira's lust for the man that completed them. Charles, on the other hand, fell head over heels in love with her and eventually asked for her hand in marriage. Moira surprised herself and accepted.

Then the headaches started. It wasn't much at first, but Charles began to get them more and more frequently. They started to impact his ability to perform the experiments she constantly put him through and, when her guinea pig could no longer entertain her, she had started to get bored. Still, he tried to complete the exercises she gave him, until one day, he'd simply collapsed. She'd had him rushed to the hospital where the diagnosis was not good: Charles had cancer.

They took him for further tests and examinations and, unfortunately, surgery was a limited option for him. Chemotherapy and radiation would have to do what surgery could not. His mother had died of the same cancer, Charles had told Moira; her body had simply succumbed to the incessant rounds of medication. Within a few months, it was obvious he was headed in the same direction. The tumor did get smaller, but his body simply couldn't recover fast enough in between sessions. He was at a medical impasse. The two were not going to give up, however, and they started looking for alternate cures. At Berkley, they found a group of doctors that were trying unorthodox new treatments; the two geneticists contacted the team's lead and broached their idea. It was accepted outright and the couple moved to America.

They developed a revolutionary gene-based treatment and tried it on the dying young man. While the entire medical team waited to see if the break-through drug would work, Moira decided it was time to break off her engagement with Charles. He'd been stunned, but too sick to put up much of a fight and anyway, Moira was impossible to fight with. The other doctors on the team chided her for her bad timing, but she declared that, live or die, she wasn't going to let him continue to think they'd get married when they weren't. The treatments of the new drug continued for several weeks, and, miraculously, the tumor began to disappear. Several months later, Charles was released a healthy man. This cure did not come without a cost, however. All the hair on his body was lost; he had no arm hair, no chest hair, nothing. A year after the ordeal, he had managed to re-grow only his eyebrows and eyelashes. It was a small price to pay for his life, however, and he didn't begrudge it.

The two parted, remarkably, as friends. Moira went back to Scotland to continue her research, while Charles, with a new lust for life, decided to travel the world. She would get post cards from his various adventures, and once, when he'd spent six months on an Antarctic research vessel, a picture of him smiling broadly, squatting on the ice with an Emperor penguin regarding him seriously. It remained her most favorite picture of him; the quintessential Charles. Then one day she'd received an ominous letter, postmarked from Cairo. He'd hastily told her that he had met another man like him and that they had fought. She'd been worried as the letter didn't sound like Charles at all. It wasn't long after that he showed up on her doorstep at Muir Island. She'd been married and pregnant then, but she listened raptly as Charles related his encounter with Amahl Farouk, the Shadow King. What really bothered him was that Farouk and used his abilities to enslave others, some of which were mutants. He concluded that if they'd known how to control their abilities, they would have been able to overthrow Farouk sooner. Thus, the idea for the Xavier Institute was born.

Charles went back to America, to his childhood home, and began to work on the realization of his dream. Eventually, he'd met and married Gabrielle Haller. Moira had been invited but had absolutely no desire to attend that debacle. She had planned, however, to visit him when, three years later, he'd been in the accident that cost him his legs. Her own life got in the way and it wasn't until two years later that a conference brought her to the United States. She spent two days at the mansion and gave Charles a thorough check up. She'd also met Ororo, Charles' only student. The girl had a remarkable appearance, but hadn't made much of an impression on Moira aside from that. Charles, who had once been vibrant and infectious with his exuberance, was now a shadow of that former self. It was as though he'd taken everything of himself that wasn't absolutely necessary to maintain the school and locked it up; like putting away one's summer clothes for the winter. She had remembered thinking: there's no summer for Charles anymore. Only winter.

Now, however, as she sat across the table from him, she sensed the ice had thawed and if it wasn't full-blown summer in his soul just yet, it was at least spring. This made her smile; she was very fond of her friend and thought he deserved another go at being happy. Now, if only she could discern what force of nature had begun to thaw the glacier.

She realized Charles had been talking as she'd been wool-gathering.

"I'm sorry, Charles, but I've got to tell ye; I haven't really been paying attention to anythin' ye've said."

He took a drink of his wine and smiled at her, "I said that the last time I was here was with Gabby."

"Uhg, then I'm glad I wasn't listening," she rolled her eyes and drank.

Charles chuckled, poured more wine for the two of them, then asked, "so, how have you been?"

"Good, good." She swirled her glass a little, staring out at the twinkling cityscape.

"How's Sean? Kevin?"

"Sean's doing very well. Kevin…well, Kevin is a moody teenager. But Sean's a big help with that."

"Has Kevin's control of his power gotten better?"

"Yes it has, thanks to you and Sean. Sean runs him through the exercises you gave us and Kevin seems to enjoy it. He only really loses control when he starts dealing with Joe. I dinnae why he insists on having anything to do with that man, but I can't rightly keep a boy from his father, can I? Even though Joe wants little do with the title and hasn't spent a dime on him since he was in diapers."

Charles took a drink and sighed. "It's a shame, but at least you have Sean."

"Aye, Sean's a godsend."

"When do you plan on marrying him?" Charles tried to hide his smirk behind his glass.

"Now listen here, Charles Xavier. I've no qualms hitting a man in a wheelchair."

Charles laughed. "Really, Moira. You've been with Sean longer than you were with me or Joe."

She took a drink and sighed. "Has it been that long, then? I suppose I'll have to break up just as soon as I get home. Nah, I couldn't do that, I guess. I'm fifty-two; how many thirty-year-olds do ye think would put up with a single mum to a grumpy teenage mutant, eh? Probably not many. Besides," she shrugged, "he's pretty good in bed."

Charles shook his head, smiling.

The waiter approached and quickly took their orders. Charles requested an additional bottle of wine, and the two got back to their conversation.

"So," Moira began, "enough about me; how've ye been?"

"Great," he replied.

"Any new students?"

"No. Although I'm working on that. The problem is that I currently have to look for prospective students on my own. I've been developing an algorithm for Cerebro to search independently of me, but I haven't gotten the parameters just right. So far, the only mutants the program picks up are myself and Ororo." He laughed. At the mention of her name, he became visibly warmer.

"Oh, Ororo's still living with you, then?" she asked the question off-handedly, taking a drink as she did.

"Yes. She's in college now; in fact, she just finished her finals for the semester today. She's very excited. In fact, she's out right now celebrating with her sister and brother-in-law." He was smiling, and, she noted, he glowed.

"How much longer does she have?"

"A year and a half for her undergrad, if she doesn't take summer courses. She normally doesn't, though. She hasn't decided on whether or not to go for her graduate degree, although I keep pressing her about it."

"What'll she do after school? Work at the Institute?"

"I haven't asked her. I'd love for her to, of course, but if I don't get some more students soon, there won't really be a need for additional staff. But," he sipped at his wine then continued, "she'd be great at it. She's intelligent, kind, gentle...she'd be a great influence on young people. Much more than an old bald man in a wheel chair, anyway." He smiled at the thought.

Their dinner came out the two were silent a moment as they ate. Moira had begun to think she'd stumbled upon the reason for the Great Melt. He beamed when he talked about Ororo. His face lit up, his eyes got their old familiar twinkle, and he just seemed more present. She didn't think he realized the warmth he exuded when he mentioned the girl; did he recognize his feelings for her?

"I remember meeting her the last time I was here, but she didn't leave much of an impression on me," Moira huffed.

Charles grinned, "She's grown a lot since then. She's not as shy as she was when she first came here. She's much more outgoing, but in a calm sort of way. She's not overbearing in the least. She's…she's great. I don't think you could meet her now and say she'd left no impression on you, that's for sure. No one could meet Ororo Munroe and not be impressed. She's just wonderful."

"Ye speak very highly of her," Moira put her chin in her hand and gave Charles a knowing look.

"It's impossible not to. Do you know she's taken over my mother's gardens? She's even got the roses looking better than they have in almost twenty years."

"Well, no thanks to ye. Ye've got the green thumb of an abominable snow man."

"I had a cactus once, I'll have you know."

"Charles, that thing died from over-waterin'. I remember it."

He chuckled and took another bite of his duck.

Moira watched him, her chin still resting in the palm of her hand. She twirled a bit of her pasta around her fork nonchalantly and said, "Ye look much better than the last time I saw ye."

He looked up from his plate. "Thank you."

"Is Ororo seeing anyone?" Moira inquired off-handedly.

"No, not currently."

"Why not? Such an impressive girl should have a lot of boyfriends, I should think."

"She…she just got through a bad relationship a while ago. I think she's trying to take it slow; concentrate on herself. I can't blame her for not rushing into something new; I haven't been in a relationship since Gabby and that was seven years ago."

"Ga!" Moira exclaimed, jerking her head from her hand. "Ye've got to be kidding! Ye need to get laid or something!"

He snorted. "I think all that's behind me."

"Why?" she asked seriously, "ye've got a lot to offer someone, Charles. Ye're handsome and brilliant and I know ye're a good lover. Honestly, ye're quite the catch."

"Thanks," he replied without much conviction.

He was in her hotel room, undressed from the waist up. Moira listened to his chest as he took two deep breaths in. She moved the stethoscope to his back, and he repeated the process. Charles got yearly checkups from his physician, but Moira was more familiar with his previous bout with cancer. She also wanted to make sure she could still say what a marvelous life her gene-therapy patient was living.

"I hear that Dr. Nathaniel Essex is going to be at Berkley for this conference," she said, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck and probing gently with her fingers.

"I've read his papers; he's a genius," Charles focused past her to the pastel painting on the wall.

"I din'know. Somethin' about him gives me the willies," she moved her fingers further down his spine, then pulled her hands back and looked him up and down. "Someone's been workin' out I see."

"Thanks. You know, you're right, though. I do get the feeling that there's…something off about his papers. It's as if he has more than just theoretical research behind some of his claims. I think he's a mutant."

"Have ye tried to talk to him?" She probed around his lymph nodes, lifting first one arm and then the other.

"No; if he's living a successful life as a mutant, he doesn't need me poking my nose into his affairs."

"Mmm, maybe ye should, though. If he gives the both of us the willies…" she examined a mole on his ribs; it looked normal enough.

"Why don't you meet him and see what you think?"

"I guess," she replied then sat up straight. She looked Charles in the eyes and sighed. "Alright, I'm done pokin' at ye. Ye can get dressed."

He reached for his shirt, which was laid out on the bed. Moira walked to her purse, retrieved her cigarettes, and then cracked open the door to the balcony. She leaned against the doorjamb, half in and half out of the room. She took a drag and blew the smoke out into the night. She looked back at Charles, who was buttoning his shirt. She'd always thought it interesting that he buttoned shirts from the bottom up, instead of top down. She smirked.

"Do ye think she knows?"

"Do I think who knows what?" he replied, not taking his eyes off the buttons.

She looked out onto the city. "Do ye think Ororo knows ye're in love with her? But I guess, ye haven't really admitted to yerself yet, have ye?"

He head shot up and he paused, mid-button. "What?"

Moira regarded him, a smug expression on her face. "Oh c'mon on, Charles. It's plain as day; ye're in love with the girl. Yer face lit up like the Fourth of July when ye started talking about her and ye didn't shut up about how great she was for half the dinner."

Charles huffed, shook his head, and continued to button. "I don't believe this."

He finished and started to knot his tie, but he grew frustrated and stopped. Moira flicked the cigarette out the door and crossed over to him.

"Here, let me," she took the ends of his tie and began to fix it. "I'm sorry; I wasn't trying to upset ye. But, ye do look so much better than the last time I saw ye and I think she's why. Ye're a great guy, Charles; the girl'd be lucky to have ye."

He looked up into her face and realized his friend was sincere. "Thank you, but I'm no good for her."

"And why is that?"

"I'm too old and I'm…" he motioned to his legs.

"I think ye'd better let her decide that for herself. Now off ye; I've got an early plane to catch."

She handed his coat to him, which he donned. They said their farewells and Charles made his way to the parking garage and his car. He thought the entire way of what Moira had said. It startled him to realize he hadn't denied being in love with Ororo. He'd simply waved off the thought the two would ever be more than friends. He sat in his car for a few minutes before he picked up his phone and texted Ororo that he was on his way to pick her up. His heart pounded as he drove to the bar she'd relayed to him; he was both excited and scared to see her.


	4. Chapter 4: Two Dinners Part II

Chapter 3: Two Dinners Part II

She got off the phone with Charles and made her way up to her sister's door. She hadn't even made the steps before Evan bounded out and threw himself around her. The scrawny seven-year-old hugged her waist tightly, then looked up at her, a giant smile smeared across his face.

"Auntie O! You're here!"

"Hey, Evan! I think you're at least a foot taller than when I saw you Wednesday!"

He giggled and untangled himself from her. Trevor stood at the door, shaking his head. "You'd better get up there and start getting ready; Lynn gets here in an hour and if we're not ready to go…"

"All hell will break loose," Evan finished matter-of-factly.

"If she hears you say 'hell', it's definitely gonna go south," his father replied.

Ororo smirked, entered the house, and made her way up the stairs to the master bedroom. Her sister sat at her vanity making faces at the mirror to ensure that her lipstick wouldn't inadvertently get on her teeth should she decide that one of the hideous expressions was needed. Ororo thought that if her sister were to make such silly faces in public, lipstick on her teeth would be the least of her worries. Vi noticed her, smiled, and then, realizing her sister was wearing a tired t-shirt and jeans, gagged.

"What the hell are you wearing?!" she exclaimed.

"I told you I hadn't dressed up! I was taking finals all day! I wanted to be comfortable!"

"Yeah, well I didn't know you were going to show up dressed like Farmer F*cking Brown!"

Evan, who had followed his aunt to his parents' room, was sitting on their bed aggravating the cat. At his mother's curse, he started to giggle. Vi noticed her son, inhaled, and screamed for Trevor. Her husband rushed in, scooped up the boy, and made for the relative safety of downstairs. Evan giggled the entire time.

"Honestly, Vi. That kid's going to curse like a sailor pretty soon."

"Thanks for the parenting advice, Farmer Brown. Now get out of that crap and fix your face. I'll find something for you to wear. And, GOD, please do something with that rat's nest!" Vi pointed her finger accusingly at her sister's messy bun, then got up, and closed the door to her room while Ororo undressed.

She sat at her sister's vanity and started doing her makeup as Vi rummaged through her closet. The two were of similar build, although Vi was a little shorter and curvier. While she liked to fuss about it, blaming the curves on Evan, Ororo thought she was beautiful and Vi KNEW she was. She paid little attention to her sister's murmurings as she applied some eye shadow. Vi was currently griping about the shape of her pathetic closet; filled with nothing but "crap" as she put it.

"How did this even get in here? I don't remember any of this sh*t. Oh, hey, so, is your plus one meeting us? Ow! F*ck!" Vi exclaimed, obviously hurting herself on some object. Muffled crashes sounded from the room and Ororo wondered how someone with a closet the size of a twin bed could have that much stuff in it.

"No, he had a last-minute meeting with a colleague," she called back to her sister. She meticulously checked the alignment of her eyeliner. "But we have a date tomorrow."

There was another soft bang, and then her sister was standing behind her, several articles of clothing in her arms. These she tossed onto her bed.

"Okay, so here's a selection for you," she scrutinized her sister's makeup job. Satisfied, she pulled her curling iron out of one of her vanity's drawers and plugged it in. "Don't forget your hair, and hurry up, the babysitter's going to be here soon."

With that, she spun on her heel and left.

They were waiting for their food, enjoying their drinks at a new brewery that Vi had chosen for dinner. The place was hopping with customers and a live band took requests in a corner of the restaurant. Vi and Trevor sat across the table from Ororo.

"So, you're still spending a couple of weeks with us this summer, right?" Vi asked her sister.

"Sure."

"Great, plus, we still need to decide where we're going on the Munroe-Daniels family vacay this year."

Trevor took a swig of his beer, wiped the foam from his lip and said, "I want to go somewhere tropical."

Ororo raised her eyebrows and Vi sniggered. Last year, although Ororo hadn't gone, her sister's family had opted for Maine. Trevor had apparently found Maine far too cold, even in July.

"And I want to do some manly things with Evan. Like fishing," he added.

"Do you even know how to fish?" Vi looked dubiously over at her husband, but then sighed. "I just want to go somewhere I've never been."

"You don't have to know if you pay someone to take you. Anyway, you've never been anywhere in the Caribbean; that sounds like a perfect destination. Where do you want to go, 'Ro?"

"Mmm, the beach always sounds good to me!"

"As long as we don't get hurricaned on," Vi scrunched her nose.

"I don't think 'hurricaned' is a word, but I'll do my best to ensure it doesn't happen," Ororo smiled at her sister, then took a drink of her beer.

"Good," Vi reached across the table for her sister's beer, "which one was this again?"

"Cucumber jalapeno."

"That just sounds so bad," Trevor consoled his normal beer.

Vi took a drink, smacked her lips a little, then passed it back to her sister. "It's surprisingly refreshing."

"I know, right?"

Their food arrived and the waitress asked if they needed anything else. Vi and Ororo both ordered a different beer to try, while Trevor stuck with his original pick. The girls giggled at him for having no sense of adventure, but he remained steadfast in his belief 'that beers are not lattes and so should not have strange ingredients'. That line had sent them into fits of laughter.

They drifted in and out of conversation. Sometimes, they would congregate around a question or observation and then they would idly return to their separate thoughts. It wasn't at all uncomfortable, and, during one of the lulls in the forum, Ororo found herself thinking of Charles. She wondered what he was up to; was he locked in some riveting discussion with Dr. McTaggert, or, like her, was he daydreaming about being in different company? She had texted him earlier, but found it distasteful to check one's phone at the table, unless, one had no choice. So she hadn't seen if he'd responded or not. She imagined him here with her; she thought he would like this place. She could picture him, next to her, smiling and watching the people. They would make up farfetched secrets about someone ( _That guy won the bronze in the 1980 Olympics for competitive lip synching_ ) and whisper them to each other while trying not to laugh. He would take her hand, smile warmly at her, and lean in to kiss—

"'Ro!" her sister barked, shaking her arm.

Ororo shook her head, having lost herself in her fantasy. "Sorry, I was out to lunch there for a moment."

"Well, come back to dinner with us. What were you so wrapped up in, anyway?"

Ororo pointed with her beer to a man in the corner who was unselfconsciously rocking out along with the band.

"That guy; he took home the bronze in the 1980 Olympics for competitive lip synching."

Her sister looked over her shoulder while Trevor glanced over his wife's head. They both started laughing.

Having finished their meal, the trio decided to return to a local haunt: a bar just a couple of blocks down from the Daniels' house. It was called McClanahan's, and Trevor swore it sported the choicest whiskeys. Vi commented about how the place sported the best barmaids in skimpy outfits and that's why her husband loved the whiskey, but nonetheless, they stopped for a drink.

"This place is a lot busier than I remember," Ororo took a small sip of the whiskey Trevor had ordered the three of them.

"Yeah. It's recently under new management and the place has started to pick up a bit."

"It's the skirts," Vi crinkled her nose at her drink, but resolutely pushed through the alcoholic burn. "Speaking of busy, though, your life has been pretty eventful the last few months."

"You're not kidding. School has been non-stop! I'll be glad to get a break—"

"No, not school, silly. Your dates; you've been going out a lot. Same guy?" Vi tried to hide a smug smile behind her glass. It had been far too long since her sister had dated in her opinion.

Ororo blushed. "Yes, the same guy."

Vi leaned forward, obviously intrigued. "Really? Well, c'mon! Who is he? What does he do? Where'd you meet? When do I get to meet him?"

Ororo began to panic, but Trevor rescued her.

"Let it rest, Vi. It's obviously still pretty new and she doesn't need you managing it for her."

Vi threw her elbow playfully into her husband's side.

"Okay," she capitulated, "but can you tell us anything about him?"

"He's really nice and sweet," Ororo answered, "but Trev's right; I don't know that I want to put labels on anything just yet."

She wanted very much to put labels on her and Charles' relationship. She longed for it, but didn't think it appropriate to gush to her sister about him when he didn't even know how she felt. Every time she got to the point of confessing her undying love for him, she backed down. Why would he want anything to do with an ignorant orphan from Africa? What was she to him but just a stupid girl? She started to feel a little depressed, but it only lasted for a brief moment. After all, she couldn't be entirely meaningless to him; he was going on dates with her after all. As it always goes with new relationships, however, one is always one's worst critic. Then there was Violet. What would she think of Charles being Ororo's love interest? Would she laugh, not at him specifically, but that her dear deluded sister could possibly think that someone as great as THE Dr. Xavier would even be remotely interested in her? Or worse, what if he just didn't feel that way about her?

 _Let's not go there_ , she thought to herself.

Truly, though, she yearned to ask for her sister's advice. How could she figure out if he liked her without completely making a fool of herself? She sighed. It was a terrible move, as her sister had been scrutinizing her for just such a slip-up.

"Uh-oh," Vi observed, "there seems to be a problem in the 'relationship'." She air-quoted the word relationship, indicating her disgust at her sister's labelling comment.

Ororo rested her head on her palm, defeated. "I guess…I guess I just don't know if he really likes me."

"Does he pay for dinner?"

"Yes."

"Are you having sex?"

"What?! No!"

"Then he likes you."

Vi smiled triumphantly and took a pull of her drink. Trevor tried to drown his laughter with his, but it wasn't working and he nearly shot whiskey out of his nose. Vi always tried to embarrass her younger sister and relished in the pink now flooding Ororo's cheeks.

"Honestly, Vi!"

"Hey, I've got a point."

"Not that you'd toot your own horn or anything," Trevor rolled his eyes.

"I just call it like I see it," Vi remarked.

Ororo's phone made a dinging sound, indicating she'd received a message. While she didn't think a person should answer her phone at the dinner table, she didn't have qualms about a girl checking her phone when her sister was being lewd. She pulled the device out of her purse; it was Charles, asking her if she still wanted a ride.

 _Absolutely! We're at McClanahan's!_ She texted in reply.

He texted back that he was on his way and she hurriedly suggested he come in and have a drink with them when he arrived. He didn't answer, but he was probably driving, so she didn't think much of it. Ororo looked up from her phone to find her sister eyeing her suspiciously.

"Well, I see that we're out of drinks. My turn," Ororo got out of her chair and made her way to the crowded bar.

She found a space and squeezed into it, waiting for the bartender to take her order. There was a group of young men next to her, and one of them turned and smiled. She smiled back, good-naturedly. He extended his hand and said, "Hey, I'm Zach."

"Ororo," she shook his hand and then turned back to bar.

"That's a nice accent; I'm guessing you're not from around here?"

Ororo smiled, shaking her head slightly. "I'm originally from Africa, but I've been here for five years."

"Awesome. How do you like it?"

"It's good."

"So, what do you do?"

"I'm in school; at NYU."

"Hey! Me too!" He hooked his thumb at himself, "general studies."

She giggled and pointed at herself. "Meteorology."

"That sounds a lot cooler," Zach took a drink of his beer. "Where do you live? Around here?"

"No, Bayville."

"Ah," he took another swig of his beer. "That's pretty cool. So why Bayville? The commute's gotta be killer."

"My best friend lives there; I live with him. I have since I moved here."

"Oh. I live right up the street, about-"

The bartender arrived and gave a nod to Ororo, who quickly ordered another round of drinks. Suddenly, someone was jostling for a spot between her and Zach. It was Vi.

"Hey sis, thought you might need some help," she glared up at the man she thought was cornering her sister.

"Sure, if you want."

Zach laughed. "My bad, I was just making conversation."

Vi glared harder, if that was possible, and collected the drinks the bartender had delivered. She turned and walked back to Trevor while Ororo paid.

"I'm sorry if I seemed like I was being aggressively flirty or something."

"No, please don't apologize," Ororo smiled at him, "my sister can be a little over-protective."

"That's really your sister, or are you using it like y'all are close like sisters?"

"No, she's really my sister."

"Why do you have an accent then and she doesn't? Or am I just that wasted?"

Ororo laughed. "Well, your sobriety is up for question, but you're not wrong. I grew up in Africa, she grew up in America." Zach started to say something, but Ororo cut him off, "it's complicated. Anyway, it was nice meeting you; maybe I'll see you around campus or something."

She waved and joined Trevor and Vi.

Meanwhile, Charles made his way to McClanahan's. His mind kept returning to Moira's pronouncement; that he was in love with Ororo.

 _Dammit, Moira,_ he thought. It would've been much easier if she'd kept her observations to herself. He was perfectly content to continue lying to himself.

He pulled into a parking space in front of McClanahan's and crossed his arms over the steering wheel. He rested his forehead on them and cursed Moira again. He raised his head, perching his chin on arms. Without direction, his eyes scanned the huge windows of the bar, and found her. Her stark white hair was pulled back from her face with a pink scarf, leaving soft curls to cascade across her caramel shoulder. He longed to brush them back; to feel the warmth of her skin under his. He shook his head violently…and noticed she was engaged in a conversation with a young man at the bar. He was both envious and relieved. He wanted to be on the receiving end of the smile she flashed him, but, at the same time, he knew nothing good could come of a relationship between the two of them. Maybe this young man would catch her interest. In the bar, the boy said something funny and Ororo's head tilted back as she laughed. Vi joined her, then walked away and Ororo, wrapping up her conversation with the young man, turned to join her sister at a table. He sighed, and, suddenly cognizant of how over-dressed he was, started to get out of the car.

People gave him half-hearted glances when he entered. He doubted it was the wheelchair that was garnering the attention; most of the time people were overtly trying not to stare, which he found amusing. But entering McClanahan's in a tuxedo, now that was unusual. He made his way confidently through the crowd, however, which unconsciously parted for him, and headed toward the table where Ororo and her family sat.

She was talking to them when she caught sight of him. Her face lit up and a smile spread across her face, twinkling in her eyes. She waved and he returned her smile. She stood and motioned for one of the scantily-clad waitresses to take away the extra chair. She was still re-positioning the furniture when he got to the table. She bent, kissed his cheek, then sat. Vi looked from her sister to Charles, but then leaned over to hug him. Trevor gave a small wave as salutation.

"I'm so glad you made it!" Ororo exclaimed.

Her sister noted that she was suddenly all aglow, and filed the observation for later. "Hiya, Charles. I didn't know you were coming."

"I had dinner with a colleague this evening; I told Ororo I'd pick her up when we were finished if she liked."

"Oh yeah, sorry, Vi. I forgot to mention that to you."

 _Dinner with a colleague, eh?_ Her sister thought. Hadn't Ororo mentioned that her plus one hadn't been able to make it to dinner tonight because he'd had last-minute dinner plans with 'a colleague'? An idea began to form in Vi's mind.

"Trevor, I saw the job your company did for the new art museum," Charles commented, "it was marvelous work."

Trevor beamed. He owned a construction company and had recently been hired to make a small outdoor amphitheater and garden area for a new museum. The plans had all been created by a budding artist and the work had been very complex. Meeting the artistic vision of the young man while abiding by the laws of physics and concrete had been stressful, but in the end, the project had come out nicely. It was a big win for his small company and he was exceedingly proud of the work.

"Really? Man! When were you there? They just opened that part!"

"A few weeks ago," Charles kept talking, while Ororo raptly hung on his every word.

Another piece of the puzzle clicked itself into place in Vi's mind. Ororo had gone on a date with her mystery man several weeks ago and they had made it a point to visit that museum. She'd called Trevor later that day and had told him how much she'd loved it. Vi didn't think it was a coincidence that Charles went around the same time as her sister. But if Ororo was dating him, why wouldn't she say so? Vi wondered if he himself didn't want it known; could it be because he was older? Vi decided to get to the bottom of the matter immediately.

"'Ro, I have to use the restroom; be my posse," Vi announced.

Ororo looked a little surprised for a moment, then caught her sister's steely gaze. "Alright," she agreed, and stood up from the table.

They made their way to the bathroom, and, as soon as they were inside, Vi twirled to confront her.

"It's Charles, isn't it?" Her finger was inches from Ororo's face.

"What?"

"You know what I mean. Charles is the guy, isn't he?"

Her sister looked shocked, "how did you—"

"Oh please. You started mooning over him as soon as you saw him. And the museum and the colleague…"

Ororo's shoulders fell; she nodded at her sister. "Yes, it's Charles."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Vi looked consolingly at her. "Did you think we'd care?"

"No! Not at all! I thought…" Ororo sighed, "oh I don't know what I thought. That maybe if I said something…"

"You'd jinx it?"

"Yes. I thought if I said it out loud, I'd mess everything up. And besides, I don't know if he feels the same way about me."

Vi rolled her eyes. "Please. He came to McClanahan's in a damn tux to pick you up. The potential for ridicule is astronomical. A man would only do that for love."

"I'm serious, Violet. I really like him."

"Don't you two have a date tomorrow?"

"Yes, but we sort of don't call them dates."

"I don't see how that makes a real difference."

"Vi!"

"Okay, okay. Have you told him how you feel?"

"No," Ororo moved aside to let a girl wash her hands. "What if he doesn't feel the same way?"

"Does that change how you feel?"

Ororo shook her head.

"Then what does it matter? Either he does or he doesn't. Your feelings shouldn't hinge on his."

"Very philosophical of you. But how do I tell him?" She turned and examined her makeup in the mirror. "It's not like I can just say, 'oh hey, nice tux, by the way, I love you.'" She flushed; she'd never admitted that out loud and had maybe only admitted it to herself privately once or twice. She nervously wondered if Vi had noticed. If she did, though, she didn't call attention to the word choice.

Her sister grinned impishly. "Maybe you need to let your lips do the talking."

Before Ororo could retort, Vi grabbed her arm, leaned in and made an exaggerated kissy face complimented with smooching noises. Ororo twisted away and the girls giggled.

"I'm serious!" Ororo laughed.

"So am I. Sometimes our brains get in the way of things; if you kiss him and he kisses you back, no prob."

"And if he doesn't, it's even worse, because I tried to kiss him."

"But at least you'll know."

Ororo sighed, "sometimes I think knowing might be worse; at least this way, I can still dream."

"What did Dumbledore say to Harry? Something about it not being good to live in a fantasy world?"

Ororo nodded and then gave her sister a hug. It did feel good to get her feelings out in the open and to have the advice of another woman, even if it did mean potentially finding out Charles thought of her as a friend. Her sister released her and looked into her face.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure he digs you. Now let's go; they'll send a search party soon."

The girls made their way back to the table, where Vi announced that she and Trevor should probably head home. Ororo was surprised, but Vi winked at her. Trevor was at a complete loss, having been in the middle of a conversation with Charles, but he knew better than to contradict his wife. For his part, Charles asked if they'd like a ride back to their house. They agreed, and everyone loaded into his SUV.

They pulled up to the Daniels home and Ororo got out with her family. She walked them to the door where Vi whispered, "Now's your chance. Go for it!" She made a kissy face and turned to follow her husband inside.

Ororo walked back and got into the car. She fastened her seatbelt and turned as Charles said, "That seemed a little abrupt. Is everything okay?"

"Oh sure," Ororo waved her hand nonchalantly.

He moved the car back into the street and navigated toward the highway and home. Ororo's heart was pounding; she kept thinking of her sister's advice. Thoughts whirled in her head; decisions she played out to both extremes of good and bad. In the end, she opted instead to snake her arm through his, now that he was safely on the highway, and rest her head on his shoulder. She quickly fell asleep wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

"Ororo, we're home."

She woke, her arms still encircling his, her head still resting on his shoulder. She tipped her head back to look up at him. His face was only inches from hers and on impulse, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. He responded, kissing her back softly. It lasted only a moment and then he pulled away. He caressed her face with the back of his fingers, finishing with her chin in his hand. He lightly drew his thumb across her lips, then fell back from her. He brushed her hair off of her shoulder and kissed her forehead tenderly. Then he turned, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out of the car. She was left more than a little confused. She undid her restraint, though, and waited for him to make his way to the other side of the car and open her door. He took her hand and helped her out.

"You look very nice tonight," she offered as they moved through the garage to the elevator.

"As do you," he replied.

She blushed. "Thanks, I borrowed clothes from Vi, as if you couldn't tell."

"It's got nothing to do with what you wear, Ororo."

She glanced over at him but he kept his gaze forward. Had she made a mistake? He HAD kissed her, hadn't he? She felt as though her plan had backfired in the worst way.

They entered the elevator together and he pressed the button for the third floor, where the mansion's bedrooms occupied a majority of the space. The door close with a sssh and the car travelled skyward. It stopped, opened with the same ssshing noise, and they exited. His room was to the right; hers to left and down the hall. She stopped and called quietly to him. He turned his chair to regard her and she stepped toward him. She bent and took his face in her hands.

"Goodnight," she whispered, and this time when she kissed him, she didn't make it coy.

For the second time that night, he returned the kiss as warmly as she did. She felt herself wanting more, but a lady must keep a mysterious flair, so she ended it before he could. She stood up, smiled and turned, making her way to her room. She purposely did not glance back, but kept walking until she was safely inside, her back to her closed door, and the widest smile she could manage splayed across her face. She balled her hands into fists and brought them to her mouth. She started to dance in tiny circles, finally throwing herself onto her bed. She'd done it! She kissed him! TWICE! And he KISSED HER BACK! And tomorrow they had a DATE! She wasn't at all sure she could fall asleep as excited as she was, but she did, and she dreamed of kissing Charles again and again.

Elsewhere, Charles regarded his reflection dully. He wondered for the hundredth time what he was doing. He was no good for her; he knew it in his heart. But, God, how he loved her! How good it had felt to kiss her! He sighed. He wanted to hold her close to him, to tell her how much she meant to him, but deep down, he knew he couldn't make her happy. No matter how she might feel about him now, one of these days he was going to break her heart and he couldn't let himself do that. So why had he kissed her? He should've ended this long ago. He continued to chastise himself as he finished getting ready for bed. Long after Ororo had fallen into blissful slumber, dreaming of him, he lay awake in a dark cloud of self-loathing. Eventually he fell into a restless sleep, but not before he had resolutely decided to cancel their date in the morning.


End file.
